This semester I am enrolled in a fun, challenging, yet completely irrelevant Creative Writing class. Although it is not necessary for meeting any of my graduation requirements, it is one I chose to take out of curiosity. I take pride in my writing skills, both scholarly and creative pieces, but I needed to answer a burning questions: "Am I really any good?" I had to validate my notions that I could in fact write, write well, and land a career largely based on my writing skills.
The first portion of the writing class saturated in constructing poetry. Instantly, with a disappointing reaction and a distaste for poetry, I think, "Well, I guess I'll need to find validation elsewhere and labor through this section." My ego took a back seat while I scratched and clawed my way through invention piece after invention piece struggling to find substance in a subject for a poem. Nothing seemed to tickle my fancy.
A trip to the Agricultural Museum on campus revealed the gem I was searching for. While sifting through artifacts of Esther Brown I discovered love letters from a man who deeply admired her. I let my imagination run while with a scenario of romance, love, betrayal, and torment. I loosely based two beautiful poems on their distant relationship and a love lost long before the man's departure.
The concept of poetry danced in my head for several weeks while composing my pieces. I started to feel the validation, not in the fact that I can write, but the fact that I can write in different genres and still have a voice; my voice. It doesn't matter if I am writing a research paper, a press release, a quick reflection of a reading or a piece of poetry, I have a distinct style that shines through in all of those works.
I am proud to announce that I have conquered my fears and erased my misconceptions of writing poetry and am excited to present my pieces inspired by the archives. Enjoy!
Eoan’s February DepartureFINAL
Remourse FINAL
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